


A Break For The Broken

by jaskiersvalley (connorssock)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Multi, Off screen non-consensual body modification, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/jaskiersvalley
Summary: Witcher Hunters are on the rise. By pure chance Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri find Eskel who has been caught in a trap. Though his death is an almost certainty, fate bring Jaskier to them who might just have a cure. They portal back to Lettenhove where Lambert and Eskel find themselves intrigued by a silent but helpful man.
Relationships: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Eskel/Lambert, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	A Break For The Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Not Safe For Witchers - the NSFW part of The Witcher Zine.

Rumours had been rife about a new breed of danger. Humans who weren’t monsters but committed atrocities for sport. The latest trend was ‘witcher hunters’. Geralt had only heard of them and shivered at some of the stories that had been whispered around him. They stopped being stories in a faceless tavern in a large village that had advertised for an issue with a cockatrice nest. He and Yennefer had been travelling with Ciri when they’d heard of it. The promised pay was good so they detoured to cash in.

“You’re late, witcher,” the alderman had said. “Another of your kind, ugly as sin, has already gone out to deal with it.”

It was too late to set out travelling again and Ciri needed a bed. That was how they ended up in the tavern, eating silently while the world around them chattered away. There was a raucous group of men near the bar, laughing and drinking in high spirits. Obviously, they had something to celebrate.

“Leave him another two days, I say,” one of them suggested. “We learned our lesson the hard way and this brute looked like he would put up a fight. Wait for the venom to do its job, that will take a good day more to dissipate. The medallion and swords should be enough to secure payment.”

Suddenly, Geralt had a sinking suspicion he knew what this group was doing. A look to Yennefer and they were rising as one, instructing Ciri to stay put. Yennefer’s charm was like a poison as she threatened the group into telling her where the stricken witcher was. Plus what kind of mixture they used to incapacitate him. It was a potent mix, designed to blind and kill, but it wouldn’t be an immediate death. Geralt ground his teeth upon hearing of the concoction. Still, he couldn’t kill the men because they had at least given up the location of their trap.

Telling Ciri to stay safe in the bedroom and lock the door, Geralt and Yennefer set out, waterlogged scarves over their noses and mouths to keep safe. Even with that, as they approached the trap, Geralt could feel the burn of the venom that still lingered in the air. Up ahead, there was a body crumpled to the floor. It was an all too familiar figure and Geralt ran to get to Eskel, hoping that it wasn’t too late. 

Eskel was still alive but Geralt wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing. The venom had caught him across the face, making the scars already there stand out in dark, angry reds while the rest of his face was rubbed sore too. His eyes were milky with the venom’s burns, lips bitten red from where they had probably burned and blistered and he tried to gnaw the pain away.

“Portal, now!” Geralt growled. He hefted Eskel up and, for the first time in his life, stepped through Yennefer’s portal without hesitation.

In the room, he settled Eskel on the bed and set about finding a cloth and clean water to wipe the residual venom off his skin. Not that it seemed to do much other than cause more pain. Each breath seemed like agony, the venom had scorched down into his lungs no doubt, and Geralt had no clue what to do. A slightly swollen hand wrapped around his wrist, silently begging him to stop.

Jaw clenched, Geralt understood what it meant. He turned to Yennefer. “Please find Lambert.”

It didn’t take too long before Yennefer was stepping through a portal and returning with a bewildered witcher in tow. One look around and Lambert was kneeling next to the bed, murmuring about revenge as he tried to comfort Eskel.

They managed to get a little poppy milk into Eskel and he slumbered while Ciri slept on the other bed. It left the other three looking between each other sullenly.

“How much longer?” Lambert asked, teeth gritted.

“Not long, the venom has done too much damage. I can’t cure him. He’s got a couple of days at most.”

It was only years of knowing Lambert that meant Geralt could see his devastation. And the burning need for revenge. Geralt could keep an eye on the witcher hunters for the next couple of days. When it was time, he and Lambert would slip off into the night and exact their revenge.

Without saying anything, Geralt ushered Ciri and Yennefer out of their room the next day. Though Eskel was still thankfully unconscious, it seemed only right to give Lambert a bit of privacy with him. Those two had always been close, Geralt knew that. They were each other’s solace in the cruel reality of their existence.

They were in the town square when they bumped into a familiar figure of bright colours and even brighter songs. Jaskier looked well, obviously enjoying the success of his career and his family name. He smiled wide when he spotted the trio and waved.

“I heard there was a witcher or two in the area,” he greeted. “Now I know why. I must warn you though, I heard that there were some less than pleasant fellows here not too long ago. Came to check that out.”

Why Jaskier would be hunting down witcher hunters was beyond Geralt but he didn’t say as much. Instead, he told Jaskier about Eskel’s fate which had the bard’s face darkening into fury.

“Yennefer, a portal if you would please, get Eskel to Lettenhove. Geralt, you and Lambert go seek revenge and come home when you’re done.”

As was the way with Jaskier, everything happened in a whirlwind. One moment they were mourning the loss that was to come, the next they were in a posh mansion and Jaskier was shouting for milk in a bucket. Lambert and Geralt had tagged along too, wanting to help Eskel rather than seek revenge immediately. The milk was brought up by a servant and Jaskier wasted no time. He scooped a mug of it out and set it to the side before dipping one of Eskel’s lax hands into it, rubbing over the worst of the red. Satisfied, he gave the other hand the same treatment too. Nobody expected him to stand up and, with great simplicity, pick up the bucket of milk and dump half of it over Eskel’s face.

“Hey!” Lambert growled and even Geralt had taken a step forward, but Jaskier ignored them, gently rubbing the milk into Eskel’s skin and through his hair.

“It’s simple, milk acts against the venom for some reason.”

“And how the hell would a bard know that?” Lambert snarled, hand on his sword.

Not worried in the slightest, Jaskier kept working even as Eskel began to squirm under his ministrations. “My dear witcher, do you really think I am but a simple bard? I travel, I get into courts easily. The Redanian Secret Service would be nothing without me.”

A cloth was dumped in the milk and brought up as Jaskier began to gently wipe over Eskel’s face again, easing it over the scars and making sure his whole face was cleaned over before starting on his hair. Behind them, the sound of soft footsteps was accompanied by the slosh of liquid in a bucket.

“Bring the water over,” Jaskier asked.

There was a gasp from Ciri and the sound of a sword being pulled. The bucket thumped to the ground and Jaskier turned to watch Geralt bodily slam the newcomer against the wall, sword to his throat.

“Geralt of Rivia!” Jaskier thundered. “That is not how you treat my friend and resident of this household.”

“This rat chased us all over the continent, gave Ciri nightmares, hunted us like we were the game of the season.” His sword nicked skin and a small trickle of blood meandered down pale skin. “He’s not ever denying it.”

Advancing, Jaskier gripped Geralt’s arm, eyes flashing in anger. “You let Cahir go right now or I swear on any deity that’s listening that I’ll take a switch to your hide and beat some manners into you.”

Quietly, Lambert stepped up too, not quite sure who he would need to restrain, it was a close call. However, Geralt dropped his arm, freeing Cahir who stayed flush against the wall until Jaskier nodded at him with a soft “go” and he was bolting out the room. It was only thanks to enhanced hearing that Lambert could hear his footsteps stutter to a halt and the sound of vomit hitting the stone of the hall.

“Whatever you thought of Cahir, forget it,” Jaskier growled, still visibly angry as he returned to Eskel. “He worked for Redania and got caught. Let me tell you, Nilfgaard does not take kindly to traitors. I was sent in to get him out and almost didn’t make it in time.”

What little Lambert knew of Nilfgaard was enough to know that Cahir was lucky to be alive. Rather than dwell on that, he turned to watch as Jaskier finished up the milk bath by wiping down Eskel’s neck. It took a little manoeuvering to help him sit up enough to drink from the mug that had been set aside.

“Right,” Jaskier looked somewhat satisfied. “Now we just need to wash him down with water. Do this again tomorrow and see how he is then. You can help him wash in water.”

The words were directed at Lambert and he nodded, knowing how to do that at least. Everyone else was ushered out of the room and he set about washing Eskel. There was familiarity there, they’d washed each other before but rarely because of injury. He was finishing Eskel’s hair when he roused into coherence, reaching blindly for the hands on his head.

“Lambert?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Just relax, I’ve got you.” The hand around his wrist tightened and Lambert had to stop moving for a moment.

“I can’t see.”

Jaskier had mentioned that Eskel’s eyes would take a while to recover. Something about “witchery healing” meaning his world wouldn’t be permanently shrouded in darkness. But for now, Eskel was blind, maybe he could see some shadows if he was lucky. At least the pain ought to fade soon.

“I’ve got you. You’ll heal.”

A soft, pained curse was the only reaction Eskel had and he clutched at Lambert’s hand. There were no tears, witchers had long since lost the ability for that. But it didn’t stop his face from creasing up and breath hitching. A knock on the door broke them apart and Lambert looked up in time to see Cahir step in, a tray in hand.

“Who is it?”

“Cahir, someone who lives with Jaskier. We’re at the Lettenhove mansion.”

The food was placed down and Cahir sent Lambert a small smile at the thanks he got. However, he was eerily silent and Lambert frowned.

“You take a vow of silence or something?” There was a soft shrug and an aborted gesture to Cahir’s throat and mouth. “Mute?”

Another small nod and Cahir turned to leave before Lambert could press for more.

“I like him,” Eskel announced out of the blue. “He feels nice.”

It was something Lambert hummed about noncommittally, Eskel always had a knack for figuring people out, probably something to do with his latent magical abilities. However, Lambert trusted him and if he said Cahir was okay, Geralt could suck on some sour lemons.

Over the course of the next few days, Eskel improved, drank milk with each meal and they waited patiently for his sight to return. All through it, Cahir was a constant. He had taken to sitting with Eskel, quietly either darning away, fixing clothes, or working on some reports. While he didn’t talk, his presence brought with it soft noises of life which Eskel really appreciated. He and Lambert could talk if they wanted to and, when Cahir wasn’t there, Lambert would tell Eskel about him, how he seemed to hide a smile whenever there was a funny story or how he once set his parchment aside and looked ready to reach out for Eskel when it was a difficult day. He also helped out with washing, bringing Eskel buckets of warm water, helping him when Lambert was otherwise occupied. They had an easy silence between them, Eskel nudging him playfully and Cahir squeezing firm muscle under his palm in retaliation. Only once did it devolve from a friendly squeeze to finding knots in Eskel’s muscles and working over them until Eskel was a boneless puddle on the bed.

Finally, Eskel was well enough to venture down to the dining room to join everyone else for dinner. They were settling down, there was no hierarchy at the table, Ciri was at the head and looking quite smug. Lambert watched as Cahir slipped by, grabbed a bowl from the kitchen and headed for the door rather than sitting down to join them.

“There’s room for you,” Lambert said, “I promise we can protect you from Geralt if he’s an ass.”

Instinctively, Cahir looked to Jaskier with a pleading look.

“You want them to know?” At the question, Cahir nodded once before turning and leaving. “Okay, this isn’t a pleasant story. But even young ears need to hear it to know of the horrors of the world. As I said, I work for the Redanian Secret Service and Cahir was a mole in the Nilfgaardian army. Well, he got found out and I was sent to extract him. Only, Nilfgaard moves quickly and brutally. They have a very specific way of dealing with traitors. First, they brand them above the heart with the crest of Nilfgaard. While the traitor is still gasping at the pain because the brand is a good two hands’ breadth, they cut out their tongue so no more secrets will spill from the traitor’s mouth. Once done, the traitor is tied to a post and whipped, then left. It’s a slow, public death, either choking on their own blood, bleeding out, or infection takes them.”

Silence engulfed the table and nobody really wanted to touch their food. Quietly, Jaskier finished the story. “I found him sagging in his bonds, barely alive. Brought him back here because there was nowhere else that was safe for him.”

“Why doesn’t he eat with us?” Ciri asked with the innocence of a child.

“You try eating without a tongue,” Jaskier replied, eyes dark with sadness. Obviously he had seen more than he was letting on.

After that, dinner was a subdued affair, Lambert helping Eskel whenever he forgot where he’d put his spoon or wanted to add salt to his food. Plates empty, Eskel reached for Lambert.

“I think I’d like to pay Cahir a visit.”

They’d talked about it before, knew that there was the potential for something more there. All that was needed was for all three of them to agree. Finding Cahir’s room wasn’t too arduous and Lambert knocked, a hand on the small of Eskel’s back. The door swung open and Cahir looked at them, uncertain and hesitant.

“We’d like to talk,” Lambert said and he didn’t miss the pained look on Cahir as he gestured to himself silently. “We know, Jaskier told us. But I think we can communicate without words just fine.”

Still hesitant, Cahir opened the door further and let them in. His room was sparse, almost nothing personal in there and Lambert was glad Eskel couldn’t see it, it would have made him sad.

“I’ve seen you looking at us,” Lambert started, launching in without any preamble. “Do you want to do more than just look?”

There was panic rising up in Cahir as he backed away, stumbling a little over his own feet. It took Eskel reaching out and, by fluke, landing an arm on him that stopped anything worse.

“It’s okay. We like you too. We’d very much like to try for something more with you.”

Lambert picked up the thread. “Eskel will need more time to heal but, now that he’s on the mend, I need to get back out there. I wouldn’t mind leaving him with someone who will make him happy.”

He didn’t mention that he planned on only taking local contracts that were only a few valleys over and easily within a day’s riding. That way, he could be back in Lettenhove with Eskel each night. He was broken from his thoughts by Eskel’s soft “I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Something warm spread through Lambert at watching Eskel find Cahir’s chin and tip his face, slowly bringing their lips together. He didn’t want to think of the last time Cahir could have possibly been touched like that. A long time ago, judging by the quiet desperation behind the way he clutched at Eskel’s shoulders. He opened up so naturally, letting Eskel deepen the kiss until a tongue licked into his mouth and Cahir was tearing himself away, hand clamped over his mouth.

“What’s the matter, little bird?” Eskel cooed, trying to look at least in the general direction of Cahir. “Did I do something you didn’t like?”

Watching Cahir, Lambert had a vague notion of what was wrong. He stepped closer and offered an arm out in a hug.

“No need to be ashamed. We know, okay? Tongue or no, we still want you, want to kiss you and make you feel good. Will you let us?”

Decision made, Cahir stepped into the offered arm and Lambert tugged him to his chest with a happy little rumble. Carefully, he guided them until Cahir’s back was against Eskel’s chest. Between them, they kissed over Cahir’s neck and their hands slipped under his shirt which drew another pause.

“It’s okay,” Eskel murmured, “we have our own scars.”

That didn’t mean he wasn’t horrified as he felt the ridges of healed whip marks that covered Cahir’s back. Recovering from such an ordeal as a witcher was questionable, as a human it would have been agony and uncertainty for so much longer.

In front of Cahir, Lambert helped him out of his shirt and he bit his lip to keep quiet about the brand that took up half of Cahir’s chest. The crest of Nilfgaard was burned deep into his skin. Even healed up, there was no way it was ever going to fade. However, the focus of their first time together wasn’t to draw reminders of the past, it was to show acceptance of each other. To reassure themselves that they worked well together in all aspects of life. They already knew they got along well outside of the bedroom, it was just a matter of pulling that gentle support between the sheets now.

Between them, Cahir sighed, shivering at the gentle touch he’d all but forgotten was something that existed. Shirtless, he encouraged Lambert to strip and turned to help Eskel out of his clothes too. By the time the three of them were naked, it was all too easy to fall into bed, Lambert at his back while Eskel kissed him, careful not to lose himself in it and press a tongue between Cahir’s lips. Their kisses were still open mouthed and panting but not invasive.

“Oh sweetheart,” Eskel purred. He pressed their cocks together and moaned while Cahir sighed in pleasure. One hand wrapped around them and Lambert rocked against his back, leaving a trail of precome along his skin.

“We’ve got you, darling, trust us to have you.” Lambert’s words were like a siren song and Cahir nodded, breath heavy and lips forming mutely around words he wanted to voice. While he could still make noise, he opted for silence out of shame over his lack of ability to form clear words.

Eskel didn’t waste much time, moving his hand over them, twisting on some strokes to bring an additional burst of pleasure. It had been too long since Cahir had someone touch him like that. With Lambert pressing open mouthed kisses along his neck and Eskel whispering sweet nothings, even with the best of intentions he couldn’t hold back.

“Come for us, little bird,” Eskel murmured and listened as Cahir’s breath hitched on a soft “oh” and the smallest, breathiest “fu-” left his lips as he shuddered through his climax. Eskel wasn’t far behind and he groaned as he spilled between them.

Panting harshly, Cahir pressed his lips against Eskel’s before turning to sloppily kiss Lambert, reaching behind himself to help him out. A few more lazy thrusts later, Lambert was biting down on Cahir’s shoulder to stifle a moan.

They lay there, sweaty and messy but content to not move. Eyes closed, Eskel hummed happily, basking in the warmth and easy tangle of limbs. He was only a little surprised and quite touched as he listened to Cahir’s breathing even out and heart rate drop to something much slower. Sleep did sound like a wonderful idea.

“Hey Esk?” Lambert whispered. A hum encouraged him to keep going. “Why do you call him ‘little bird’?”

“He feels so fragile and slender.”

That had Lambert snorting and he pushed up onto his elbow to peer down at Eskel. “Not everyone is built like a mountain.”

“Yeah, but he’s smaller than even you.”

Aside from the slight of being called small, Lambert would have giggled. “I hate to break it to you, I’m not small. And neither is Cahir. He’s just smaller than us. Trust me, there’s nothing fragile about him.”

He was never going to let Eskel live this down. Lambert was eager for him to regain his sight so he could prove just how solid Cahir was between them. Maybe they could make a game of it. Lambert sure hoped the other two would be up for it. For now, all he needed to do was stroke over Eskel’s cheek and settle back down to hold Cahir close. Everything else, including cleaning up, could wait until they woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> More stories on Tumblr @jaskiersvalley


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